


like a whore

by hatebeat



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard not to be good at something if you've been doing it your whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a whore

Pickles had been the epitome of drunkenness when he brought the girl to his bedroom. Just the one. He had had about three of 'em keeping him company all evening pretty steadily, but this one was the most insistent, and by time he was ready to leave the company of his bandmates and their various conquests of the evening, she was the one most determined to come with him, and Pickles was too drunk to put much effort into it.

He took her by the hand and she followed him to bed. 

She was a slutty little thing, forward, but submissive, and she wasn't usually Pickles' type in that regard. When she asked him to tie her hands, he knew he couldn't give this girl what she wanted, not really. Not tonight. But he wrapped a belt around her wrists and bent her over the edge of his bed with a hand resting firm on her neck, and by time he got his cock inside her, he was already feeling tired of it all, but too drunk to do anything to change it.

There was a point when she turned her head just enough to look up at him, giving him desperate, pleading eyes, and Pickles was struck by how wrong this was, and how he didn't want to be doing this to this girl. Not tonight.

\---

Once for a Snakes 'N Barrels after party, pretty early on, they had all gone to this sleazy club that played the shittiest music any of them had ever heard, but everyone's brains were blown high on coke. That was what you did there, and nobody cared how shitty the music was because they were all feeling too good to give a shit. The band waltzed in there still decked out in their stage clothes and makeup and even if people hadn't heard of Snakes 'N Barrels yet, they knew that these guys were _somebodies_.

It was easy to score some coke right in the door and they had already been drinking for hours before and during the show, so not long after they got to the club, the four of them were just as fucked as every other moron in the place. Pickles found himself sitting in a guy's lap, a guy who was a good six inches taller than him and had strong hands, who squeezed Pickles' ass like he was a girl and took him by the arm like he thought he was in charge, and for some reason, Pickles was happy to let him. They were all just hanging out in the corner of the club, them and some other people, just chilling, trying to talk over the music, and things started to happen, not just for Pickles, but with all of them. Hands wandered, lips touched, and it got later. 

"I want that ass," the guy whose lap he was in said right into his ear, rolling his hips up so that Pickles could really feel it, and Pickles couldn't think of any reason why it would be bad to get up and lead him to their tour bus parked out back. The guy's buddy came with them, and Pickles didn't complain.

In the bus, the guy pushed him to his knees and his friend held Pickles' arms behind his back by his elbows, keeping him down. The guy unzipped and grabbed fistfuls of Pickles' hairspray-matted hair, controlling his face, making him suck for all he was worth. Pickles was too high to fight back, but he was starting to not want to do this anymore.

He didn't stop it, though. He was high and pliant and they took turns with his ass and his mouth and he didn't lift a finger to stop them because even if he tried, he wasn't sure he could, at that point.

They left him in his bunk with his makeup smeared across his face, and as he started to come down, he was flooded with that feeling he always felt after Seth was particularly cruel to him.

He needed a drink, but his ass was sore and his heart was pounding, so he curled up and faked sleep, even after Tony came in and passed out in the bunk with him, arm wrapped tightly around Pickles' chest.

\---

"I don't want to."

"Just put your mouth on it, just a little. C'mon."

Pickles squirmed, trying to cover up, but his underwear was on the floor and his pants were across the room.

"It's gross."

"Heh, look what a baby you are still. Just do it. Don't you wanna be able to play with the big kids? Look, this is the kind of games we play, okay? So just do it, then you can hang out with us."

Maybe Seth would be nice to him if he was cool enough, right? Hesitant, Pickles leaned a little closer, sticking his tongue out... and then Seth grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head down.

"Fuckin' do it, you little twerp, or I'll tell dad you were playing big kid games. Heh, you know he'll beat your ass. Yeah, that's right... like that..."

Pickles squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears in. He didn't let them out until he was back in his own room and shut himself inside his closet.

\---

Whenever Charles decided he wanted him, Pickles was more than happy to comply. This whole arrangement was totally fine with him, even if sometimes he kind of wished the guy would have a little more emotion. That wasn't brutal or whatever, but he had wanted this long before Charles had, anyway.

Charles calling Pickles into his office for a mid-afternoon break from his work, then, wasn't that unheard of, and it wasn't unheard of for him to take off his necktie and secure Pickles' wrists with it, getting Pickles on his knees under Charles' desk. Pickles was glad to have Charles' use his mouth, was glad to have Charles give him orders, was glad for all of it. It was more fulfilling than fucking any of their groupies. 

Charles gave him what he needed, just like Pickles did for him.

"You're damned good at that," Charles conceded, his breath hitching, and Pickles' eyes flitted it up to meet his without interrupting his work. 

Yeah, Pickles was good at it. He knew that. He was better at it than he was at playing drums or playing guitar or writing songs. He was better at it than he was at doing drugs. 

It was hard not to be good at something he'd been doing his whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user [skelethal-boy](http://skelethal-boy.tumblr.com) illustrated a scene from this fic. [Click here](http://skelethal-boy.tumblr.com/post/69743239805/like-a-whore-in-the-bus-the-guy-pushed-him-to) to check it out!


End file.
